


From the Pits (Eventual Reader X Megatron)

by Mixnote



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gladiators, Poetry, Rating May Change, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2020-09-28 14:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20427164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixnote/pseuds/Mixnote
Summary: *WARNING: Violence and mature subjects*The life of a gladiator is a hard one, but it can also be rewarding. (Y/n) learned this first-servo after being thrown into the Pits and told to kill or be killed. What's a femme to do?*I do not own Transformers!*





	1. Warning!

_ **Hello my dear reader! Please read everything written here before reading the story. ** _

  * This story is about gladiatorial combat, thus there will be some gore and explicit fighting scenes. 

  * As stated in the description, some mature subject matters will be handled (such as politics). 

  * There may be mention of abuse, poverty and perhaps rape. You have been warned. 

  * This story takes place before TFP and may have some IDW comic influences, thus not everything is canon. 

  * I will try to make the main character (you) as personalisable as possible, but many things (such as your size and weapons) will not be up for personalisation. That will make it very hard to write anything presentable. 

  * Only Cybertronian curse words shall be used. 

I _do _hope you enjoy reading! 

~Mixnote 🎧


	2. Terms

_**This is a list of terms which will be used in the story. If you are unsure of something, feel free to come back here**_. 

THIS LIST WILL BE UPDATED AS THE STORY PROGRESSES! 

Shortened words: 

  * (Y/n) -Your name
  * (F/n)- Friend name
  * (S/n)- Sire name
  * (C/n)- Carrier name
  * (O/c)-Optic color
  * (A/c)- Armour color

__ Units of time: 

(Please note that these units only count in this AU, it may not be Canon)

  * Vorn- 1 year
  * Stellar cycle- 1 month
  * Mega cycle- 1 week
  * Joor- 1 hour
  * Click- 1 minute
  * Nano-click- a second

Body parts :

  * Olfactory receptors- nose
  * Derma- lips
  * Denta/detal plates- teeth
  * Intake- mouth

Cities/ buildings/ areas: 

  * Kaon (city) - Future Decepticon capital and home of the gladiatorial Pits of Kaon. 

  * Iacon (city)- The Autobot capital (even before the great war). Home of the Senate and many high-caste bots. The Great Hall of Records can be found here, where Alpha Trion guards Cybertron's history and beyond. 

Other terms:

  * Sire- Father/Dad/Parent 
  * Carrier- Mother/Mom/Parent


	3. Low caste Femme

"-and then she yelled at me to get out! I can't believe I got fired!" 

Two femmes walked down the lit streets of Iacon. Cybertron's two moons shown brightly in the night sky just above the many tall buildings. The street lights that aligned the road gave off a golden glow that made the two femme's armour shimmer. 

"Don't worry (F/n). I'm sure you'll find another job, and until you do, I'll just provide for both of us." The taller of the two femmes smiles down at the other.

"I can't let you do that, (Y/n). You're already struggling as it is-"

"-Life is hard, I must admit, but that doesn't give us the excuse to not look out for others, especially those who are close to us." (F/n) smiles up at her best friend. "Thank you." 

The taller of the two nods. "You're welcome. Now come on, we should get home. There's a cube of high-grade with our designations on it."

\-----------------------

The friends headed to their shared apartment, joking around about (F/n)'s ex-boss -a high-caste femme. "Oh, _do _make sure to clean the silver~" (F/n) teased, her words sounding like that of the fancy accent of the high-caste. 

"And don't even _think_ on skipping the dusting today. The head of the Senate is coming." (Y/n) added, equally posh-sounding. 

They both giggle. 

Yes, they may both be stuck in the lowest-caste, but as long as they have each other, life was bearable. 

_...As long as they have each other..._


	4. ...Work...

The (A/c) femme was at it again. 

A jab and a block. A wild swing. Another block. Another jab. 

A group of passing mid-casters smile and chuckle at her. By now, everyone who ever took the time to notice her knew very well that (Y/n) had the tendency to have fictional "fights" whilst working. To most it was amusing. To others it was a waste of time and a distraction. That is if they even bothered to take notice. But to (Y/n)...

...To (Y/n) nothing was more real than the "air enemies" , the bucket shield, and the mop sword in her servo. Simply put, she believed she felt what her sire once felt when he fought with his brethren as young mech to liberate all Cybertronians from the Quintessons. She could remember the story well. How he fought beside the great femme warrior Beta and A-3 - Alpha Trion before he took his current name.

Before the caste and before this... Autocracy...

_'CRRAACCKKK!!!' _

The femme stops her self-conscious practice when the mop breaks in two- having come into contact with the wall. 

"Frag!" she curses under her breath. "That's coming out of my paycheck..."

\-----------------------------

(Y/n) was seated on the floor against the hallway's wall, a holopad in servo. The work at the chemical-manufacturing plant was done for now and mop replaced. 

No, she didn't design or create chemicals -it was prohibited for a low-caste bot to have such a job. She was, however, in charge of said chemical clean-up. Though she was intelligent enough to be a chemical engineer (even more so then some of the current workers) , she would never be given such an opportunity. Instead, she was stuck learning whatever she could from reading any and all available datapads and observing things being done. 

Yet another thing this femme was good at: Observing.

This often helped the femme, whether it was by remembering where the newest chemical was being stored (after noticing the chemists carrying it there), to what it contained. It also meant she often caught details in others' behaviour...

...Just like now. 

From her spot on the floor, (Y/n) glances over the edge of her datapad to the two mechs who just entered the room. The shorter she immediately identifies as Augment- the factory's supervisor. The other mech, however, was a complete stranger. 

His armour consisted of different shades of royal colours. Red, gold and blue highlighting his mostly white plating. He had an authoritative and demanding air around him, common with those who work in high places. There was no doubt, this other mech belonged to the high-caste.

"I believe I have seen enough, Augment. I will give my report to the Council. They will decide what is to be done with this factory. Until then, you will continue as usual." 

Augment nods at the other mech. "Yes, sir. Everything shall be dealt with diligently." The white and royal coloured mech makes his way out the door, not sparing as little as a glance towards the supervisor or low-caste femme on the ground.

As soon as he was out of sight, Augment vents out the breath he was holding. 

(Y/n) frowns. It wasn't every day someone from the Council came here. And Augment was not the nervous kind of bot, so for him to seem so ill at ease was strange... She had half the processor to ask him what's going on. To ask him if he was alright, but that may not be the wisest thing to do, especially not with him in his current state... 

_'Something isn't right here...' _

The mech heads back to his office, not noticing (Y/n) as he mumbles to himself. "If the Senate decides to automate this factory as they are the others..."

_'...What will happen to us?'_


	5. Jaw dropping amazing!

Iacon's Great Hall of Records proudly towered above those passing below. Though it was not the tallest building in Iacon, it was a sight to behold. 

It wasn't every day that (Y/n) got to visit the Hall, in fact lower-caste bots rarely come here. They simply have no business here amongst the high-talking, fancy superiors.

...Unlike (Y/n) does now, of course. 

\---------------------------

It was early morning when she entered the chemical factory. After clocking in, she went straight to the closet to get supplies just as she always did. However, when she passed Augment's office, there was a huge difference. (Y/n) was surprised to not find the supervisor doing some early morning "paperwork" at his desk, but rather the same senate-mech from two days before. 

Without being aware, she stared at the mech- her train of thought returning to the day he first came- to Augment's words after he left. 

_"If the Senate decides to automate this factory as they are the others..."_

The supposition sent a wave of dread through her. She worried, not for herself, but for others working at the factory. Some of the workers were old, sick or in some way unable to do much other than the chemical cleaning and sorting they did here. (Y/n) could go find another job- perhaps in a mine (that is, if they weren't already automated as well) or perhaps in some other manufacturing plant. She was still young, still able to manage grueling work, but some of the others... they are not able to handle any hard physical labour.

Most of them would be left with nothing. They would be left with no way to care for themselves, to care for their families, sparkmates, sparklings. And this all so those at the Senate did not have to pay extra credits, so those in the highest of places could indulge in a few extra cubes of high-grade while there were younglings consuming scraps.

And sadly, she knew it was like this all around Cybertron. 

"You, femme, come here." It was then that her attention was fully gained by the mech. Glancing around, (Y/n) pointed to herself in question. 

"Does it look like there's anyone else here? Yes, you." Timidly, she entered the office, not sure of his intentions. The mech stood up to his full hight, which was surprisingly close to (Y/n)'s - he was but a few meters taller (which was not a lot in Cybertronian terms). Then again, she was a tall femme. 

"What is your designation?" The femme answers without hesitation, her voice portraying her courage, "(Y/n)."

"(Y/n), what do you do here?" the mech asks, though not seeming to really care. "I'm one of the head chemical cleaners, Sir." 

"Well not today, you're not."

She's taken aback. "S-Sir...?" The (for the most part) white male bot took out a datapad and handed it to her. "You are to go to the Great Hall and fetch this data. No bot else may lay optics on it. You are to go, give this 'pad to the archivist, take the data and come straight back. Am I understood?" 

"B-but Sir, I am just-" 

"You will do as I command or you will be punished!" (Y/n) flinched back slightly. It wasn't every day someone threatened her like that. 

_And she doesn't like it._

"Yes, Sir. Right away Sir." 

\--------------------------

Taking the five large steps, (Y/n) finds herself in front of a massive, round doorway. At first the femme was unsure on how to even get in. That was, until a kind voice rang behind her. 

"Excuse me, miss? May I help you?" She turns around. A mech around her own age stood before her-a stack of datapads being juggled in his servos. "Yes, please. I...I need to get inside. Do you know of anyone I could ask for permission to enter?" 

The mech goes to stand next to her. He seemed to be of one of the higher castes- his blue and red armour simple, unlike the heavy working armour most in the low-caste wore, and without a scratch. "May I ask what your business here is?" 

(Y/n) ponders for a moment whether or not to tell him. She was deliberately told not to... 

...and yet, when she looked into his bright blue optics, she could see a pure spark. _This mech could be trusted_.

"I need to retrieve some data... For someone from the Senate..." The (A/c) femme takes out the datapad she was given for the archivist. Orion's optics scan over the 'pad- when reaching the end, he nods. "I can help you." he smiles.

Feeling relief, (Y/n) thanks him, "I appreciate it- your help. Not many of the higher castes' citizens would go out of their way for a lower fem like me." Orion looks at her with great pitty, putting the stack of datapads down. "Yes, well... Not everyone understands. The Senate has...taken measures to assure that..."

After a few quick button pushes, the large door slides open, revealing the treasure trove that was Cybertron's biggest archive. Orion bends down to pick the 'pads up. "Here, let me help you carry." (Y/n) takes half the heap from the mech. He smiles and steps aside allowing her to enter. "I appreciate it. Femmes first." 

The two Cybertronians step inside, and immediately (Y/n)'s expression changes from a kind smile to that of awe. Orion looks at her with a chuckle. "I know, that was my original reaction as well."

"This is... THIS IS JAW DROPPING AMAZING!" The young archivist's smile grows even wider. "Come on, let us go find what you were looking for. Perhaps I can show you around a bit another day?" The femme mutely nods, still gazing at the rows and rows of datapads. 

Orion stops at a desk and puts down the stack he was holding. (Y/n) does the same then waits patiently as he walks around it and starts searching for something. Things clatter and shuffle around in his search. "Ah! Here it is." The mech lifts up what looked like a memory stick. "This is what you came this way for." He hands it to her. (Y/n) gently takes it and immediately subspaces it for safe keeping. 

"Thank you, Orion. I don't know what I would've done without your help. The mech from the Senate threatened that I would be punished if I did not get this to him. I can't lose my job, not now. Not with my friend depending on me." 

"You're welcome (Y/n). It's not every day an archivist like me gets to save the day." He rubs the back of his helm. 

"I should probably get going." The fem puts out a servo towards the mech. He takes it and firmly shakes it. "Yes, we don't want you getting in trouble. Come back some time?" 

(Y/n) smiles. "I will."


	6. The same empty cycle

"Ah! You're back! Excellent!"

(Y/N) nods, "Do you require me to do anything else for you, Sir?"

The white plated high-caste mech swiftly takes the memory stick from (Y/N). "No no, I no longer require your assistance." He swiftly looks all the data over on the desk monitor, (Y/N) catching a glimpse of some of the information written.

It unsettles her.

"You have done well, femme. Now off with you. Go do your...work." The mech arrogantly waves her off, not even offering her as little as a side glance.

(Y/N) waivers for a moment, wishing to get another glimpse of the screen, but alas, it is switched off before she could do so. Not wishing to seem suspicious, the femme acts the part of an underling and bows."Yes, Sir."

She briskly walks off, trying very hard to not become irate within such close proximity to middle- and high-caste mechs. The security cameras are also a concern: they see everything. The moment you show any sort of hostility towards an influential, you assure your own prosecution; or you assure worse.

But the (A/c) femme is unable to refrain from thinking over the bits of data she managed to construe: the names of workers who worked here in this factory, labeled under worker's class and caste level.

Some of them were highlighted in red.

\--------------------

(Y/N) shuts the door to her and (F/N)'s small apartment. "(F/N), are you here?"

There is no answer.

"She better not be out with those other femmes again..." (Y/N) maffles as she sits down on the dining table chair.

This was often the case. She would come home, call out for someone to answer, _receive _no answer, and head to the kitchen area to get some energon.

Today, however, she doesn't feel like drinking or eating anything. She simply sits there, emotionlessly staring at the small cyber-organic plant sitting idly in the center of the table.

_'Was this her life?'_

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her olfactory receptor. She sometimes wished that she could come home to more than just a small fauna in a pot. She wishes that she didn't have to wake up each day to go to a job that means nothing, yet can so easily lead to injury or death. She wishes to be able to do something more; to use what she has learned and what her sire had told her when he was still with her. She did not want to do this work...this work reserved for the lowest class.

_'Her sire...' _

It has been 5 vorns now and she still misses him as if he just passed. It has been even longer since her carrier joined with Primus in the Afterspark. She died after becoming ill. They could not afford to continue her treatment... And her sire... It took a random mech on the street and four shots through the chest for the loading dock worker to eventually pass.

(Y/N) gets up from her seat, deciding that staring at nothing and thinking back at bad memories would not do her any good. Instead, she decides to wash off some of the grime on her frame with a quick shower.

_'Get up, get ready, go to work, come back to an empty house, refuel on low-grade, recharge and repeat. Follow the same empty cycle day in and day out.'_

The fem looks intensely at her reflection. Two (O/c) optics stare back. They turn downwards to look over the rest of her frame. The protoform was (colour) and smooth, except for the few spots on her limbs where some chemicals had burned them. Her servos are brought up for inspection. They were also a bit edged in places due to the same reason as her arms and legs. They seemed feminine, but at the very same time they seem to be able to handle anything.

She continues holding her intense gaze, wondering what she could do to change things. How can she escape the cycle?

_'The Hall of Records.'_

That was the answer to her dilemma.(Y/N) had received an opportunity- perhaps even a blessing- when she met Orion; an opportunity she will not let pass. She will not allow her life to continue in this way- the way the corrupt Senate decided it should be.

With a sudden sense of determination, the femme puts on her armour and grabs a notepad. Quickly she writes a message to tell (F/N) where she would be in case her friend came home whilst she was gone.

The note is placed on the table and the fem heads out, locking the door behind her once again.


	7. An Open window

(Y/N), once again, awkwardly stands in front of the massive door belonging to the Hall of Records.

Earlier, she had Orion's help to get into the archives, but now it seems she has no such luck. The entrance is too thick to allow her knocking and pounding to be heard by anyone inside.

A few passers by gives the lower caste femme suspicious looks, some even stopping to glare at her as if it would warn her off. Their dirty glances are in vain.

"What to do...?" she muses aloud as she leans backwards a bit, trying to find a way to get in or call Orion. There were no buttons which to push in order to summon someone; no call boxes; not even a doorbell.

_'Why is this place so hard to get into?'_

With the situation seeming to become more forlorn by the click, she is starting to give up and decides to, perhaps, come back another time.

Then the glint of sun rays on glass caught her optics. Holding her servo over her slit eyes, she is able to make out the window responsible- an _open_ window.

It was an entry way, and the only one the femme had been able to find thus far.

The only problem is that it is located on the second...third...fourth floor...

Frowning in thought, the (A/c) female scans over the horizon to obtain a means of getting to the window. With a glow of her optics (a special trait gained from her sire) she starts gathering data to form a plan by looking at all possible outcomes. 

°°°_The Hall: large= does not exceed the heights of close by buildings. Hall: great width=easy to land on the roof._°°°

_'Too bad flying alt-modes were prohibited in this area.'_

°°°_The Hall: stands on its own= gap between it and other skyscrapers- large. Building to right: very tall= no use. Building to left: strange shape= leans closer to the archives and window. Buildings at back: too far= irrelevant._°°°

With everything scanned, (Y/n)'s optics loose their glow. Biting her lower derma, (Y/n) heads to the strange building. She will have to act natural when she goes in as to not draw much suspicion. 

Briskly she looks up the building's name and function. Perhaps that will help her find a way in without being thrown out.

_°°°Oricle mast_: _Office building= __usually does not have much security due to budget cuts. _°°°

It seems promising.The femme straightens up a bit, making sure that she didn't seem too poor to be in a place like this. Glancing around to make sure there are no people who can see her, she walks across the square.

Slowly she reaches the entrance, which whooshes open for her. Entering, she keeps her data-gathering software on.

_**°°°Caution! Security located at stations 116 and 375= VIP protection.**_°°°

"Excuse me, can I help you?" 

(Y/n) shuts off her data retrieval programming and faces in the direction of the sudden voice. A young femme was seated at the front desk. Her armour, being that of any in the middle-class, was a bright orange. It was as vivid as her kind smile. 

"Why yes; yes you can." (Y/n) gathers her nerves. She then proceeds to take out her document- a record every lower-caste bot had to have. "I've recently been hired as a cleaner by Management." She holds out her document in front of the other femme's face just long enough for her to read what (Y/n)'s current occupation is- a cleaner. "Would you mind directing me in the direction of the janitorial supplies?" 

Smiling, the femme nods, "Of course! Welcome to the workforce, by the way. I'm RhiRay." 

"It's a pleasure, RhiRay." (Y/n) tries to withhold her designation. She cannot give away too much personal information.

"The offices around here don't usually hire lower class workers, even for the most basic of jobs." She ducks down to get something. 

"Oh? Why so? If you don't mind me asking." (Y/n) puts away her certificate of identity. 

RhiRay explains while rummaging around, her voice muffled by the desk, "The last one who worked here passed away a little while back. Got sick and never got better. Her name was Seafire. She..." The young femme came back up slowly, her joy gone as she placed a keycard on the surface before (Y/n). "She was a close friend of mine." 

This brought a pang to prick at her spark. She knows well what suffering it is to lose someone due to chronic illness- she lost her childhood friend that way.

"You have my condolences..." (Y/n) takes the keycard. "I know what it is like to lose someone you cared for." 

"But that's just life, I guess. See you around (Y/n)." RhiRay returns to her work as (Y/n) made her way to the staircase. 

\------------------------------------

The wind is sharp as it nips at the (A/c) femme's face. 

(Y/n) had discarded the keycard after she found the room that leads to the stairway, which leads to the rooftop, by simply keeping it in the door. Hopefully someone finds it and returns it. 

The plan was simple enough: jump from the roof, transform for a split second, get to the window, transform, grab the ledge and pull herself in. Easy.

Despite the small feeling of fear in the femme's tanks, she found that the view certainly was something. Everything was clean, no dull, half-broken buildings; no hungry, sick, half-dead people sitting in the streets: no rust eating at all in its path. Just Iacon in all it's shiny, golden grandeur. 

She jumps, the wind now full on biting at her with its icy teeth.

With a shift she transforms into her flying alternate mode. A quick boost is given by her powerful engines.

_Three clicks. One, two, three. _

Her engines cease and she takes on her normal form. 

_One, two, three, four..._

Servos reach out to grab at the window. Fingertips barely touch the ledge...

...Then slip. 

There's a moment of complete dread as the femme grabs at the air, knowing that she won't be able to transform fast enough to save herself.

Then, as if Primus himself came to her aid, another's hand shoots out and latches onto her own. (Y/n) finds herself staring up into two familiar blue optics. 

"I have you," Orion smiles reassuringly at her.


	8. Empathy

"What in the name of Vector Sigma possessed you to jump from one building to another?" 

Orion leads (Y/n) through the maze of archives. The femme is grinning as she gawks at the rows and rows of datapads and data containers. 

She spares a quick glans at the mech, then returns her attention to the shelves. "I needed to get in." 

"Yes, that's obvious," Orion makes a left then enters a code into a keyboard. "My question is _why_ did you need to 'get in'?" There's a _'beep' _and an entrance opens for the two of them to go through.

(Y/n) stops at the doorway, suddenly solemn. "I can't keep doing it, Orion. I can't keep living like I am..." The femme frowns, a bitter taste in her intake as she thinks about the millions of other low-class Cybertronians who do not have the chance she has. 

"Like you are just another part of a machine." Orion finishes for her. She nods. The young mech places a servo on her shoulder. "I hope you realise that you are much more than that, (Y/n). You are brave, and that already shows strong character. Besides," he enters the other room, a bashful expression making its way onto his features, "I don't know many bots who are willing to jump from rooftops to come see me."

Smiling at the mech, (Y/N)'s optics filled with hope. "Does that mean I get to stay?" 

Orion sat down on a swivel chair and gestured for the femme to do take a seat on the other. "First I'll need to speak with my mentor, but I do not see why you won't be able to." 

"Really? You believe they will be willing to have me come here to learn?" 

"I _know_ it." Orion's gaze moves to the round window across the room, his optics peering out of it to yonder. "He knows what you are all forced to endure. He...empathises with people." 

"Like you." 

The femme's words brought him back to find her looking right at him- through him.

"Perhaps." 

All becomes quiet between them, both sinking into their own thoughts until Orion gets up from his seat to grab two glasses from a side-counter and fill them with a dark blue liquid. 

"Energon?" Orion offers one to his guest.

The femme stares at the glass in his outstretched servo. It was high quality energon; the darker the colour, the more concentrated and full of nutrients. A drink like this can hold a low-caster who's used to watered down energon the whole day. 

Orion, noticing her hesitancy, brings it closer to her. "You can take it. I promise it won't harm you." 

"It's not that..." (Y/N) takes the glass and holds it closer to her chest. "I just... This sort of energon is very expensive to someone like me. Yet if more could afford it, much less people would die of malnutrition..."

"I'm sorry (Y/N)." Orion sips his drink, feeling guilty doing so. The femme before him sounded so much like his friend. He wishes to do something to help. He _has_ to do something to help.

_'Bleep bleep! Bleep bleep!'_

A small screen flashes to life with a show of green.

"What's that?" (Y/N) finds herself asking.

Orion presses a button, making the noise stop. "It's a proximity sensor. It tells us whenever someone entered the building and where."

"Who's here?"

The archivist offers her a hand to help her up. "Someone who you _have_ to meet."


	9. There's more to history

This way (Y/N)," Orion waves the (A/c) femme closer as they weave through an entirely different part of the Great Hall. The shelves reach higher and higher the further the Cybertronians walk. When reaching an area where the data-shelves finally reach the roof many metres above, Orion stops. 

Slow, calm pede-steps come their way as a long shadow curves around the hallway's bend. The shadow slowly shrinks down until it forms the outline of a mech. 

"Ah! Orion! I see we have a guest." The old Cybertronian lowers his organic datapad. "You should have told me that we were expecting someone. I would not have stayed away for so long should I have known..."

"It's not Orion's fault, Sir. He did not know that I was coming," (Y/n) speaks up, not wanting the young mech to get in trouble. 

"It's quite alright (Y/n). I told you that you are welcome here anytime," Orion places a hand on her shoulder to show his sincerity.

"Indeed; anyone my charge deems worthy of an invite to this place must be exceptional." The old mech's servo goes up to his metallic beard. A spark of recognition enters his olden eyes. He steps closer. "Do you know who I am, young one?"

The femme bobs her head, slightly intimidated by the wise Prime's presence. She had always wanted to meet this mech."Of course; you are Alpha Trion, one of the Original Thirteen and the keeper of all Cybertron's past knowledge." Standing a little taller, she puts out her hand for him to shake. "It is an honour, Sir. I grew up on your and the freedom fighters' stories. My sire once fought beside you..."

"And you look just like him...well, much prettier." Alpha Trion chuckles. Instead of shaking the stunned femme's servo, he links it up to his elbow joint and leads her back to where they came from. Orion, also a little befuddled, follows.

"I always knew you would eventually find your way here, (Y/n). I knew since the day your sire joined Primus." A sorrowful air formed around them, both still grieving in a way. "He was more than just a comrade-- he was one of my closest friends."

"Then why have I never seen you together nor heard of the two of you communicating? Surely if you were so close..."

Alpha sighs, "This caste system has ripped apart more than just families; it built a wall between friends. But believe me when I say that both your sire and I fought for the rights of all." He looks to the roof, his optics gleaming with sadness. "I just wish I could go back to save him on that fateful night of his passing."

(Y/n)'s eyes also start to gloss over. "So do I." 

Alpha Trion smiles sadly at her and pats her servo. "I see so much of him in you, dear. He would be proud." 

"I second that," Orion speaks up from behind. 

(Y/n) returns both the mech's smiles. "Thank you."

"Now," the Prime comes to a stand still at a huge platform, "I take it you came here to learn?" 

"Yes," comes the femme's simple answer. 

"Then let us not waste any time. You shall come here whenever you like. I will have Orion give you a key to the door so you don't have to go scaling buildings again."

The female looks at the mech in complete shock. "You... know?" 

Laughing softly, Alpha Trion presses a button and the platform starts rising. "There are many things you still have to learn, my dear child."


	10. A Friend

_"Well done!" the mech cheered as he tossed his daughter into the air. Her squeal gave way to a floury of giggles."If only we had your talent during our fight against the Quintessons!" _

_"Do you think I would've won sire?" The little _ _femling_ _ batted her optics up at her parent as he hugged her close to his chassis. _

_"Every fight, love." He placed her down so she could pick her metal pipe up from the ground and continue her _ _'training'_ _. The youngling happily went back to hitting the punching bag with her weapon. The mech's smile grew._

_"Every fight..."_

\---------------------------

Alpha Trion had left (Y/n) momentarily to fetch some important datapads from the other side of the Archives while Orion, much to the femme's dismay, went back to his own work.

The female sat at a desk, digit tapping on the table to no rithm. A small spot on the large surface was cleaned for her so she could read and study as she pleased, but so far she had nothing to read or study _from. _"What's keeping the old mech? The Archives can't be _that_ large, can they?" (Y/n) wondered aloud.

As the clicks tick on, the femme starts questioning her coming here. Did Alpha Trion and Orion leave her on purpose? Did they give her false hope of a better life, simply to yank it out of her servos?

"No, they would never." (Y/n) gets up and heads to the shelves behind her. "Alpha Trion would never do that to the daughter of his comrade and Orion..." She chooses a book at random and pulls it out. "Orion is a friend." She opens the first chapter and starts reading its contents.

_\-------------------------_

_Tick...tick..tick..._

Half a joor and the Prime had still not returned.

(Y/n) sits her reading material down. She is already a quarter in of the 700 page book and yet there had been no sign of any one of the archivists. It is a great cause for concern...

Pressing a digit to her audio sensor, she tries reaching Orion via internal cell link. There is a short beep, then another. Then another. Then another... Another...

Just as the call is about to go over to static, Orion's voice comes over the line. "Hello?"

"Orion? Is everything alright?"

"Everything is well (Y/n). I am sorry for not answering sooner. I am currently with someone. Perhaps you could come join us?"

The femme almost laughs. To think that she so much as accommodated the thought of him betraying her in some way. "Join you... Yes! Yes, I'm on my way." She cuts the connection and immediately makes her way to Orion's study. Perhaps he can tell her where Alpha Trion was, or perhaps give her the Prime's number.

...Does he even have a number?

\------------------------

(Y/n) steps out of the elevator. Two sets of optics watch as she approaches-- both a different shade of blue.

"(Y/n), you seemed worried when we spoke over the comm. Is everything alright?" Orion draws closer, the other mech in the room staying back and simply observing everything.

"I'm fine, Orion. It's Trion I am worried about. He left and never returned..."

Orion frowns. "Did he say where he was going?"

"He told me that he was going to fetch some more datapads from the other side of the building, but he never came back." (Y/n) searches the young mech's eyes. He is just as worried as she is.

Orion turns around to the other person in the room. The large mech stands, still and stout, yet the gleam from his cerulean and azure orbs showed great concern. The two mechs share a nod, then Orion looks back to you. "He was called in by the Senate."

"What? How do you know?" (Y/n) questions.

"This won't be the first time it has happened. They often send someone to hail him so he can 'give his recommendations' at Senate meetings." Orion places a servo on your shoulder-- something he seems to do each time he thinks you need comforting. "Do not worry (Y/n). Nothing will happen to him. I will go see what the problem is-- if there _are_ any." He gets into the elevator and enters the floor number. "In the meantime, stay here with Megatronus. If anything goes wrong, he will keep you safe."

The door shuts. (Y/n) stares at it for a while, her mind thinking up possible scenarios of what is to happen. Most of them do not seem pleasant.

"So, Miss (Y/n), where did our good friend Orion dig you out?" The female twists her body to look at the grey coloured mech. He sits himself down on the edge of a desk, full attention on her.

She takes one more moment to properly avert her optics and thoughts away from the elevator and what lies beyond, then gives him her heed. "I actually dug _him_ up."

"Ah! A femme to my own spark then." Megatronus picks up a small figure from the desk and fidgets with it. He smiles at her, not seeming to be anywhere as stressed as she was (or if he was, he hid it very well). "He told me that you came here to learn-- to find answers."

"In a way, yes. I was tired of how things were going with myself and the others around me." (Y/n) sits down on the chair by the mech's side."I thought that if I seeked out knowledge that maybe... That maybe..."

"You could make a change," he finishes for her. "I seek the same."

A small smile creeps to the femme's face. "Anyhow, let us change the subject."

"Agreed."

She ponders over conversation subjects."What do you do for a living?"

"I am a gladiator in the Pits, though I used to be a miner." He puts the figure down again. "You?"

"I'm a chemical cleaner at a lab." The mech chuckles, making the femme frown. "Why is that funny?"

"It's not funny, (Y/n). I am laughing because, well, you are very peculiar. A low tear femme working as a janitor who, by chance or not, found her way into the Iacon Archives and is now seeking a way to free her people through knowledge." The mech releases another half-laugh.

"You will make a big difference (Y/n), I can tell."


	11. Numbers

(Y/n) places the datapad on old Cybertronian which she has been reading down. "They have been away for a long time."

"Yes, they have."

The femme quirks an optical brow. "Shouldn't we be worried?"

"And how would that benefit us?" Megatronus goes to stand by the window. "We must simply wait. If we panic and go off sticking our helms into the council's business without proper precautions, it could lead to some disasterous effects." He looks out to the city of Iacon, servos folded behind his back. The sun has set, leaving the metropolis to create her own light by means of a billion little lights. 

"That's just it– I can't wait. I must go home to make sure that my friend is at home and safe. And also, I care about Orion. If anything has happened to that mech..." 

The gladiator turned to face her. "You care for Orion?" 

(Y/n) found her cheeks flushing. That was not what she was insinuating at the slightest. "I did not mean romantically!" She springs up from her seat. "I simply meant that... Well... Orion was kind enough to help me, and I owe him a great deal because of it." She slowly slides back into the chair. "And let's face it, that mech is no fighter, so should there be violence..." 

"Are you a fighter (Y/n)?" 

"Pardon me?" 

Megatronus comes to stand next to the femme. He towers over her, just as he did most people. "Do you know how to fight physically?" 

The female takes a moment to think of a response. Yes, she plays around now and again and her sire used to teach her when she was still a youngling, but she had never been in a fight. Yet she knew she was a fighter at spark, for if she hadn't been, she would not have survived as long as she did. Was she a fighter?

"I am." 

Megatronus nods. Smiling, he offers her his servo. "I shall escort you home. On the way we can call Orion and check in." 

(Y/n) takes his servo and the mech helps her to her pedes. 

\-------------------------------------------------

Iacon transit's facility was well lit as mech and femme got off one of the bullet trains. The roads heading deeper into the poorer area, however, are much darker. 

They both stand to one side, Megatronus' digits to his audial as he contacts Orion. "I am escorting her home." He looks at (Y/n) and smiles. "We were becoming quite anxious when you did not return." There is a moment of silence as Orion spoke from wherever he was. (Y/n) starts to fidget with the three datapads in her arms. "Mm-hm... Alright, I shall send them to you as soon as they are finished. Be safe Orion." 

"What did he say? Are they both alright?" 

Megatronus returns his full attention to the femme. "Alpha Trion was, as we suspected, summoned by the council. Apparently there had been a suicide bomber in Helex. It has caused quite the stir, and now Trion must help calm the people."

The female is at a loss. She has never thought that there are people who go to great lengths to kill off others– especially not innocent people. "That's awful. Why would someone do something like that?"

Megatronus grows solemn. "Because, (Y/n), the people are tiring of being forced to live as they are." The mech turns around and starts walking down the street. "Come. Let us get you home." 

(Y/n) spares one more glance towards the tall tower that made up part of the council building to the east, then quickly jogs away, trying to catch up with her company.

\----------------------------------------

"Here. Orion's number." Megatronus hands (Y/n) a small piece of paper with some numbers written on it.

She quickly scans it over and frowns. "You gave me two..."

Megatronus gives a small nod to the femme standing in her apartment's doorway, a grin slowly forming at being found out. "The other is mine. Feel free to call whenever you wish." He takes a few steps backwards down the front stairs. "I would love to speak with you again. You have certain views on this world which I agree with." 

"Alright, I'll do so. Goodnight Megatronus, and thank you for bringing me home."

"It was my utmost pleasure, (Y/n). Have a good evening." 

And so he left. (Y/n) watches as the large mech's silhouette slowly merges with darkness and disappears, then she turns and enters her home.


	12. A/N: Yes, I still live

Hello Reader! Long time no write!

That, of course, would be due to the ever weird year that is 2020. 

I'm afraid my final year of high school has left (and is still leaving) me with little time to spend on the things I truly want to do. Throw a pandemic into the mix and the whole school system starts to flounder, leaving us with too many uncertainties.

Which brings me to the point: I have no idea when precisely my books will be updated. 

Don't misunderstand, I write each second I get the chance, but that usually only adds one or two sentences. I will have to wait until later this year to truly be able to sit and write.

But, since I can't just give bad news, I will be taking a gap year next year in which I am going to work on not only ALL my fanfiction books, but my own book series which I hope to sell someday as well! 

So, until then, I have decided to officially make use of my Tumblr.

[mixnotec.tumblr.com/](http://mixnotec.tumblr.com/)

Here you can ask me anything regarding my books, future plans, what I ate for lunch, etcetera.

Thank you for sticking around. Please, stay safe, stay positive and stay awesome! 

_Mixnote out~🎵🎧_


End file.
